Compromised
by UglyTruth
Summary: A regular mission, a not so regular target. Alex finds herself tackling an enemy she could never have been prepared for. Some compromised situations, Nikita might not be able to save her from.


_Compromised_

„The target is in sight. He's alone. Heading for the bar"

"Copy that. Stall for a while longer. Wait for the green light"

"The effect of the drug will not be altered by alcohol?"

"Negative. It is a specialized sedative. Proceed as planned"

The gadget buzzed the instructions into her ear and she resisted the urge to readjust it beneath her open hair so the static wouldn't cackle that loudly.

Her eyes swept back to the bar where the stranger in jeans and a casual black shirt had just taken a seat and motioned for a drink.

She did as told, mingled into the moving mass of people at the edge of the dance floor. She never gave any indication of wanting to lose herself in the music with the rest of the clubbers.

Discreetly, she settled into a niche where she didn't attract unnecessary attention and kept her gaze fixed on the back of her assigned victim. He didn't seem to be more than mildly interested in the people that came and went around him. His head was bowed over his drink and occasionally he would raise it to take deep swallows.

From her point of view, he looked little like a threat to the government, even less like an authoritative figure, but she was not in a place to question her missions. She had her task to carry out. Generally, she only did the most necessary research on the target, ingraining their picture, name, age and residence into her head. If necessary, she also looked in on family background although most of the time she completed her job under the cloak of anonymity, which needed no prior knowledge. A face was all she required.

Her fingertips ghosted over the elastic hidden under her outfit, a simple strap holding her assigned weapon secure against her thigh. The dress that had been picked out for tonight's occasion with the sheer navy material wasn't exactly to her liking but she knew it would fulfil the purpose. A simple seduction, followed by an even simpler administration of a drug into the target's body via a miniature syringe. He would be out in seconds and upon her call, a team would come to collect him.

A good ten minutes of observing ticked by until she finally got the order to commence. With a last deep breath to collect herself, she broke away from her corner and sauntered up to the bar, leaning onto the counter with the casual demeanour of a regular guest.

"Vodka. Double," she demanded, elegantly sliding onto a barstool. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted the target cocking his head ever so slightly in her direction to size her up.

Apparently he was satisfied with what he saw because he leaned over the free stool between them to address her. "Let me," he told her, in a casual and undeniably charming British accent, and slipped the bills over the bar before she could object.

Not that she would have. Everything was going according to plan.

She turned her body to face him, giving him her full attention and gracing him with a smile that set her eyes blazing. "How generous. I didn't know that was a trait in English men"

He gave her a half-smirk in reply as he downed the remainder of his drink and nudged it in the direction of a refill. "We tend to keep that aspect saved for special occasions"

His eyes were blue, she noticed, a vibrant blue that grew dark with intensity as he looked back at her. She crossed her legs in a deliberately slow manner, exposing just enough thigh to subtly attract the man's attention to her body. Exactly as she had been taught.

"And how do you define a special occasion?" she asked as she let a coy expression tug at her mouth and watched him openly.

He took his time to consider her question, allowing her to take a healthy shot of her drink. It burned all the way down but by now it was easy to ignore the feeling it stirred inside her. She'd never been much of an addict to alcohol. She could handle herself well enough by now and she was Russian, for God's sake.

"To meet someone that entertains me. Somebody that isn't what I expect. Hard to come across these days," he responded, his accent curling around the syllables. He regarded her face for a reaction, that handsome mouth serious but his eyes tantalizing.

She simply tilted her head aside, feigning interest in the dancing bodies under the strobe lights. "I can be," she deliciously drew out the last words, "full of surprises"

He didn't even know the half of that statement. He didn't know that latest in an hour's time, she would have stuck a needle into his body and left him for others to deal with. Tonight's surprise would, in all likelihood, cost him his life sooner or later. Whatever role he had played in attracting enough attention to get Division involved, he would experience consequences soon enough.

She flicked her eyes back to him as he chuckled. Despite her inner indifference to flirting when she was working, she found the sound of his voice made him all the more attractive. Honestly, she was surprised to be the only one taking an interest in him at this point. There were plenty of single women in this place, waiting to pounce on the likes of him.

His face filled with mischief as he rose from his chair, leaving a drained glass in his wake. "Dance with me," he held out his hand, quite gallantly, even though his tone left no room for argument. She complied with a teasing look plastered on her face and followed as he led her into the crowded space.

The music pulsated in the air around them, the beat jumping from body to body like electricity as she let herself be pulled against him. She'd been taught to dance just as she been trained to kill and this was the simplest kind. No steps to follow, no standard rhythm to match, no worry about elegance and poise, just raw movement tuned to the partner's body.

He was a very good dancer, she had to give him that. He matched her pace effortlessly and she allowed his hands to possess her hips as they went along with the music. Occasionally, she still found strange to go along with this kind of interaction when she knew that her job was actually another. She didn't like connecting a face and a personality to a kill she was ultimately going to make.

For a while, neither attempted to speak over the volume of the music. It was simply sensation. She kept her back to him as much as she could, wary of the way he was having a physical affect on her. She lost herself in the pleasure of the dance, the feel of the man's hands against her body and the light rush of alcohol as it spread into her blood. She knew her boundaries and one drink was generally a must for a believable cover.

When the warning buzzed into her ear, reminding her that she was wasting time and should get on with it, she felt her head clear with the impatient voice. Enough leading on, it was time to get to business. She twisted in her target's arms, flashed him a smile and tugged on his hand. He responded without complaint and followed her as she sought out a corner near the exit and leaned against the wall, fixing him with a stare that hopefully passed as lustful enough to convey her intentions.

"I think it's time I make this a special occasion," she whispered, brushing her lips past his ear suggestively. His hand crawled up the back of her neck and she repressed the instinct to break each finger. She didn't like the dominating pressure of his touch. He failed to react to her stiffening and rewarded her with a pleased smirk.

"Where did you have in mind, sweetheart?" His voice dripped like honey over her and she needed a moment to order her thoughts.

"My place," she decided and followed word with deed.

He was the perfect gentleman during the taxi ride, never invading her privacy with a touch but simply resting his eyes on her as the driver weaved through late-night traffic. They were extremely piercing, sharp and seemed almost amused. It was his gaze that reminded her that despite his appearance he was an enemy, dangerous and surely in cohorts with all kinds of criminals. She'd been taught from the very start of her training that looks deceived.

She was no exception to this.

The small apartment she'd gotten for this mission was located barely fifteen minutes from the club and conveniently enough, there weren't many flights of stairs. She didn't want to stand on these heels for longer than necessary.

The moment she unlocked the door and discarded her clutch on the kitchen counter, she felt something change. She couldn't pinpoint it but suddenly the darkness of the room seemed to close in on her and her spine tingled forebodingly. She wanted to get this done and quickly.

She turned to face him as he snapped the door shut behind him, a dark figure against the lighter black of the apartment. He approached her gradually, confidently and she realized how silent and controlled he was in his movements now that her ears weren't bombarded by loud beats.

Perhaps she had underestimated her situation and there was a slight risk involved here. He seemed to have some form of training, judging by his sudden change in movement. Obviously he wasn't easy game to catch if he'd evaded the people he'd crossed for so long that Division were put on his case.

She pushed the doubts aside and concentrated on her role as seductress. With a flick of her hair behind her shoulders, she stepped into his advance, toying with the top buttons of his shirt. "Would you like a tour of the place?" she drawled as she unfastened the first two with nimble fingers, "There's a great view out the back"

"I tend to start with the bedroom," he replied casually even as his hands found her zip and began unfastening the dress. The strapless garment fell to her waist and she silently sighed with relief that a tight one had been chosen. It gave her time to distract him while she retrieved the tiny syringe from under her skirt.

She slid the expensive fabric off his shoulders, baring his upper body to her, mentally fabricating an answer. He meanwhile, used the moment of silence to lean in and tease her neck with kisses. She drew in a sharp breath at the feeling and her hand around his shirt clenched for a second. She was careful with how far she let this kind of scenario get and was rapidly reaching her threshold. For her, seduction on a mission never equated to sex and she'd done a perfect job of avoiding it until today.

The heat of his mouth wandered towards her lips and she made her decision. Using one hand to inch up his chest and hold onto his shoulder, she maintained the impression of being aroused while her other hand pulled up the hem of her dress. With careful precision, she retrieved the object, popping off the lid with her fingernail.

He chose that instant to force her backwards against the kitchen counter and simultaneously capture her mouth with his. She stilled at the new distraction and let her body melt into the kiss for a second, just to ensure his attention was elsewhere. Then, without a warning, she thrust her arm upwards, aiming the syringe at his jugular.

His hand snatched her wrist in mid-air, halting her movement with blind accuracy. He felt her muscles strain against his grip, could virtually see her teeth grit together as he increased pressure on the bone. Her eyes darted to his, narrowed and luminous with surprise, and he could see her mind whirring with ways to improvise after the failure of her initial plan.

He feasted on the image of her shock and anger at being caught in the act. Even more so, on her inability to escape his hold on her. It was almost easy to anticipate her knee coming for his groin, then her free arm at his gut, followed by a kick to his knee. So very predictable. So very simple to block.

She put up quite a fight for such a slim young woman, additionally hindered by her half-open dress. The end was inevitable though. He had seen this coming from the moment she'd presented herself to him at the bar.

It took no longer than half a minute to render her immobile and securely trap her body in a position that allowed close to no movement. Pressed against the wall with her arms twisted in the most painful distortion behind her and his weight crushing against her legs, he felt the fight drain out of her. She was smart too, knowing when the battle was fruitless. That immediately raised her in his esteem. Determined, skilled and intelligent.

"How?" she hissed, face against the wallpaper and venom in her voice.

"Your organization might be the best, but sometimes, even the best overlook the small details," he answered cryptically, freeing a hand to run them over her loose curls, "And sometimes," he tucked them behind her ear, exposing the communication device, "they fail to make themselves obscure enough"

He crushed the gadget in his hand before tossing it onto the ground. Then he applied pressure to her knuckles that had her groaning in agony. Nonetheless, she didn't release the needle she had managed to keep a hold of. "Play nice, sweetheart and you might live to see tomorrow," he warned her, leaning into the hold a little more and letting the sound of her repressed scream roll over him.

It took a clean break of her wrist though, before the vial fell from her shaking fingers and rolled at his feet. He released her, bending to retrieve it and was rewarded with a foot nearly connecting with his temple. She was resilient; he'd give her that. With a simple jerk of his hand, he blocked the attack and reacted by dragging her down to the floor with a swipe at her knees. She managed to strike him with a heel as she fell and he rewarded the lucky blow with a kick to her ribs that finally roused a yell out of her.

He stood with the numbing drug in his hand, contemplating whether to sedate her or tie her up for her people to find. She was evidently not done with being stubborn though. Again, she aimed a kick at his leg, which he easily sidestepped, and launched to her feet. As she aimed a punch at his breastbone, he evaded again and watched in amusement as she stumbled into the counter she'd been held against a minute ago.

A split second later, he realized that she had only been half-heartedly going for him, secretly wanting an opening to reach the other side. This time round, she'd had a different objective. She pivoted back to face him, half-open clutch in one hand, and gun in the other.

He grinned as the first bullet sliced into his calf. He laughed when the second dug itself into his right hip. The third embedded itself into his left arm, just above the elbow. He didn't even stagger back with the impact. He almost anticipated a bullet to the head or chest but she refrained from that. Obviously his value exceeded that of a corpse, or she had simply received strict orders to avoid a kill. Either way, it was convenient for him.

Despite her successful shots, she was still cautious as she stepped backwards, fingers testing the wall for a light switch. He let her, just to enjoy the look on her face when the room brightened and he stood where he was, dripping blood with the laughter still in his face.

She held the gun steady with one hand and didn't waver when he raised his hand to the puncture on his arm and stuck his fingers into the wound. Her smoky eyes grew wider but otherwise she hid her disgust well as he peeled the bullet out of the flesh and did the same with that in his hip. He absorbed the undiluted shock in her face when the injuries sealed before her eyes, leaving no trace within seconds but a smear of red in the shot areas.

He admired her composure; she was restraining herself well enough to keep a firm hold on the gun, even though her expression betrayed fear now that he had revealed his secret. She was realizing her slip of control was blowing out of proportion and the only sensible choice was to save her skin while she could.

Time to take initiative again.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" he offered with a half-smile that had her growing strained, "You are going to answer all of my questions without a hassle and this will be over before you know it. Do we have deal, love?"

"Forget it," she backed up now, heading towards the door.

He blocked her path without even trying, appearing in front of her as she turned to make a break for the door. She nearly fell into him in her haste and the horror in her eyes grew as she tried to comprehend his incredible speed. The distance between them shrunk as he leaned forward and stared her down, "Easy or hard way, that's your choice. You should be aware that I assume that those who pick the second are extraordinarily pain tolerant"

She swallowed, lips pressing together. He waited patiently as she weighed her options and replied with an unexpected twist. "You should start running. I should have called in fifteen minutes ago. They'll be coming for your body. I suggest you leave while you still can"

His grin almost outshone that of the devil with all the sinful mockery it carried. "They will be assuming that you are preoccupied, having your wicked way with me. It's not unusual. Trust me, this scenario is quite a classic. A couple of extra minutes here or there won't make a difference in the long run. Don't expect anyone so soon."

"Then kill me," she declared boldly, dropping her gun onto the floor, seeing as it was useless against him, "I don't care who the hell you are, I'm not opening my mouth"

He simply rolled his eyes, glimpsing the time on the clock hanging beside the kitchen table on the wall. He focused on her again and simply said, "Shame. You may just have ruined my plans for tonight". Then he rammed the protruding needle of the syringe into her arm and injected the contents.

There was no stopping it. She just had enough awareness to not clutch onto him as tingling warmth flooded her limbs and she lost all feeling in her muscles. She sank onto the ground, no more coordinated than a rag doll and he watched with cool detachment as her eyes slid shut.

When she awoke, it was to the consistent throb of a broken wrist and an aching body. Not to mention the fact that she was tied to a chair that seemed to be created entirely from a solid chunk of steel. She felt strangely languid and feeble but blamed that on the sedative that was slowly releasing its grip on her system.

Trying to clear her head and think on her feet, she attempted to classify her surroundings but the space she was kept prisoner in was entirely dark and when she called out, the echo resounded. So it was a fairly large and presumably empty building, perhaps a warehouse or cellar of sorts. She was still too fuzzy and the room too dark to tell.

There were no windows. She had no method of guessing how much time had passed. Tugging lightly at the restraints around her wrists, she had to draw in a hissing breath at the pain that radiated out from her snapped bone. The area felt swollen and she prayed it was a break that didn't involve multiple bone shards or fractures. Her feet were equally attached to the chair legs. The only positive aspect of her situation is that her enemy had possessed the decency to replace her dress properly so she wouldn't sit half-naked.

The other side to that thought was that he would have surely searched her entire body for additional weapons. That kind of vulnerability was not a pleasant picture.

She eventually gave up trying to wriggle out of her binds when the pain in her broken wrist had reached her shoulder and her entire arm was burning. Taking deep breaths, she repressed the rising panic and tried to direct her thoughts towards an alternative approach to escaping.

"As entertaining as this is, I think you should relax now. You'll cause more damage than I did," the voice sounded from the far end of the room. She forced herself not to jolt up straight and alert in her seat. Nothing had prepared her for that comment out of nowhere, she had not heard anybody enter or any sound of breathing around her.

It was him.

"What do you want?" she asked the curtain of darkness around her, fighting to keep her voice firm and on the furious side rather than the pathetically frightened.

There was a responding rustle of clothing and even though her eyes strained themselves to find the source, it didn't appear. His voice rang out again though, still jovial and relaxed, "A civil conversation starts with an introduction. I'm a guy for traditional values. Did _they_ not give you a name to go by?"

"You don't need a name to get a guy into bed," she pressed out, not willing to give him the satisfaction of making her sound like a laughing stock.

"Yes," footfalls filled the space, gradually approaching her position, "You did a wonderful job of that. I was impressed."

"Why did you take me? For torture? I'm not giving you information"

An overhead bulb was switched on, bathing her in hazy yellow light. The circle of brightness was enough to let her see a couple of metres. She blinked against the sudden glare, feeling like a fire had just erupted behind her eyelids.

He emerged from the shadows before her, fully clothed and with a smile playing around his mouth. Even as she said the words, they lost a fraction of their stoic finality as he drew closer. He stood there, arms loosely by his sides and looking down at her.

"Everyone breaks, love" He cocked his head aside, assessing her with measured curiosity, "You know, for such a puppet, you are very defensive of your people"

"What's your point?" she snapped, narrowed eyes trained on his, "You can't use me as leverage and I'm not talking, so what am I doing here?"

"Oh but I can," he corrected her, "In fact, you're in the wrong on both points. I can get you talking as I please and you may deny it now, but you are quite the leverage to have, Alexandra"

She thought she stopped breathing for a moment then. It couldn't be. He couldn't know her name, yet alone the one she hadn't gone by for years. Nobody knew her true identity. Nobody except Nikita and this guy sure as well wasn't part of their team last time she checked. Her gaze was ice and her voice monotone as she focused back at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about"

"Your father would not approve of where you've ended. Working with the Americans. I'm sure it would crush his pride if he were still with us," the tone was sarcastically sincere and she felt the urge to spit at his feet in contempt. He knew nothing about her. He shouldn't even dare to say these things out loud.

He already knew too much.

"Who are you?" she finally gritted out, repeating the words that he had failed to answer too many times now. She was beginning feel like her head was going to burst with the onslaught of information she had to process.

His smirk betrayed his glee at her frustration but he answered her, "For you, my dear, it's Klaus"

"Not enough. That doesn't answer my question"

"I'm believe that I'm the one asking tonight"

"That's your grand plan?" she mocked, preserving her cool exterior, "Interrogation? If you're so informed already you wouldn't need me"

"It's not your little mercenary agency I'm concerned about. Their interest in me is just one of many unfortunate things I need to deal with. No. Let's talk about you" His eyes shone with pleasure at the last statement, something she didn't miss.

"You have no idea who I am" she met his gaze, demanding, unwavering.

He smirked, all shining eyes and cruel lips. "I think that applies more vice versa"

"Division knows who you are. I don't have to know or care. I just had to deliver."

He blatantly ignored her, back on a different tangent, off reminiscing in his own little world. "I met your father at the beginning of his great career. My last time in Russia to-date, actually. We met for a business proposal, long before that tragic fire. Funny really, that your organization set that slaughter in motion, sweetheart. And now…you're working for them. It's a small world we live in."

If he thought that statement would surprise her, he was wrong. She smirked at the fact that she at least had that trump over him. He'd told he nothing about herself she hadn't heard before. She could handle it.

All she did was stare back at him defiantly and lace her voice with contempt. "Your point…?"

He paused then, seemingly irked by her lack of response. Or rather, the response he was trying to elicit from her.

"Not someone keen on vengeance?" he mused.

She simply raised an eyebrow and refrained from answering. His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly but she swore she saw the eyeball develop a red hue as he stared her down. She knew keeping him talking was her best option here. Her tracker was active so Division would send in an extraction squad sooner or later. It was just a matter of time.

She shook her hair out of her eyes and shifted in her binds. "Nice healing," she changed the subject briskly, "I've never seen that kind of genetic modification"

"Undoubtly. It is not modification by science," he smirked, "Although I don't have a single doubt that in another thousand years time, if humanity still exists, it will have attempted to manufacture it"

"That is why you are being followed," she stated on a hunch and was rewarded with a slight furrow of the man's brow as he began taking slow strides around her.

"As are you, Alexandra," he hesitated behind her chair and she felt the warmth of his body as he curled his fingers around the backrest. His mouth brushed past her ear and she grew stiff in her position as the words were murmured against her skin, "And right now, we have a woman just outside this room who seems intent on staging a rescue"

Nikita. The thought flashed through her head before she could stop it and she did her best to regulate her breathing as though that news did nothing to excite her in the least. His hands left her chair and he walked around into her field of vision again.

"I'll be just a minute," he said pleasantly, "Then we can continue this conversation"

Was he going to kill her? She had absolute faith in her mentor but for him, the man who could take bullets without blinking and healed like something out of this world, she was not prepared. She had two seconds to decide her course of action.

"How would you know that? And why would Division send one person to recover me? You are a large enough threat to send a team at the least," she blurted, trying to keep his attention, "Sounds to me like she's not even part of this"

"We'll see, sweetheart"

With that he vanished into the darkness. She squeezed her eyes shut, inwardly kicking herself for not stalling longer. She hadn't known that Nikita was stalking her on this mission. She hadn't informed her of it because it came up just after she'd returned from another. Micheal had tossed it at her on short-notice. But then again, the rogue agent always seemed to know where she was.

She strained her ears, listening into the dark while using the opportunity to push and pull at her bonds, to no avail. The clanging of metal and ring of shots in a faraway corner, probably even outside wherever she was being held, caught her attention.

She had no idea how this was going to turn out but she prayed that Nikita would realize the risk was too great and make a dash for it soon. Especially before the strike team arrived, if they were searching for her.

She hadn't been so screwed since trying to make a break from Division. She tried to control her breathing but urgency had set into her now and she started pulling at her binds again, biting through the pain. No use. She had no room for movement and the broken bone was causing her agony as she pressed against the ties.

She finally relinquished the resistance, slumping against the chair. Trying to listen intently and at the same time wanting to block out anything she heard from outside. She couldn't think of Nikita losing her fight. Everything they had worked for would be destroyed.

Alex swore, clenching her healthy fist. She needed to find this stranger's weakness and fast. Otherwise she was pretty sure she wouldn't make it out of here alive.


End file.
